


Social Experiment #1

by twobirdsonesong



Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My name is Darren,” he says. “Hold my hand if you want to live.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Experiment #1

Chris has the kind of love/hate relationship with the first weeks of spring that he does with fresh-baked cookies, the middle seats at the theatre, and his skinny jeans.

 

He’s happy to finally get into the world and see the warm sun and blue sky after long months of cold and oppressive grey.  And this last winter has felt especially long.  But just as he’s happy to escape his living room, so is everyone else in the goddamn city.  Sidewalks that are already usually pretty crowded are suddenly packed shoulder to shoulder with people who’ve stumbled from their apartments like they’re emerging from a brownstone chrysalis – pale and blinking and not quite sure of their surroundings.

 

He’d meant to get out to the store earlier in the morning, before everyone else in the neighborhood finally left brunch and spilled out onto the sidewalks, but he’d gotten distracted by his cat and YouTube and hadn’t left until later. Too late.

 

Now he’s stuck battling his way through too narrow and too crowded sidewalks, dodging strollers and dog leashes and people who have no sense of how to properly fucking _walk_.

 

Chris catalogues them all with a sharp glare and sneering lip as he shoulders his way through another family who somehow think it’s okay to stretch out across the entire sidewalk and move at a sub-glacial pace.

 

The Drifters – those people physically incapable of walking in a straight line, and yet who seem to have a near superhuman power of drifting this way and that as Chris tries to maneuver around them, forever blocking his attempts.

 

The Short-Stop – that special breed of person who full-stops in the middle of the pack, inevitably causing someone behind them to trip up and creating a chain reaction for an entire block.  Chris flat-tires their shoes when he can.

 

The Gawkers – the tourists who meander down the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the sky instead of where they’re going.  Chris avoids them, lest they ask for directions.

 

The Family Outing – that dreaded, solid mass of humanity shuffling down the sidewalk, blocking any and all attempts to get by, around, or between them. Chris does what he can to barrel straight through them, even if it leaves him with a sore shoulder.

 

The Blogger – that asshole staring down at their phone, completely oblivious to the people around them, or the pile of dog shit they’re about to step in. Chris never, ever warns them.

 

Chris hates them all, especially when he’s tired, a little sweaty, and just wants to get home and away from everyone else.

 

He’s got a shopping bag of fruit and vegetables and another of books in one hand and he’s stepping around a slow moving Drifter when someone suddenly grabs his other hand, gripping tightly.

 

Instinctively Chris jerks his hand away, quickly turning to see who the hell would just grab his hand like that.

 

“No, don’t let go!” Cries the man walking next to him.

 

Chris gawks, just a little, and fumbles for words.  The man is shorter than him, with a riot of dark curls and big bright eyes.

 

“What the hell?” Chris stammers, even as the man reaches for his hand again. “What are you doing?”

 

“My name is Darren,” he says. “Hold my hand if you want to live.”

 

Chris blinks stupidly, but his feet keep moving, carrying him forward, and the man – _Darren_ – keeps pace, still holding Chris’ hand in a warm, firm grip.

 

“What are you doing?” Chris asks again, tugging his hand, but Darren holds on.

 

“It’s an experiment,” Darren chirps, all whiskey eyes and wide smile like he’s not out of his mind.  He’s utterly adorable and Chris looks away.

 

“Is this some sort of joke?” Chris asks. “Or like, are you part of some reality show?”

  
“What?  No.” Darren shakes his head and Chris does not watch the sunlight play in his curls. “I told you.  It’s an _experiment_.”

 

Chris swallows. “I think you should let go of my hand.  And leave me _alone_.”

 

“No man, just hear me out.  It’s this _thing_ , like.  Haven’t you noticed that when couples hold hands and walk down the street, people move out of their way?”

 

Chris glances over at Darren.  He’s got stubble on his cheeks and he’s wearing a stupid t-shirt and he’s _absolutely_ the kind of guy Chris would check out at the bar, but never, ever go up to.

 

“What?”

 

Darren grins and swings their hands between their bodies.  “When couples hold hands and walk down the street, people just…let them.  No matter how crowded it is, which is bullshit.  If you and I were just walking along, we’d be expected to duck, dive, and dodge all over the place.  Especially on a day like today.”

 

Chris blinks.  It’s true, he realizes suddenly.  In the last few minutes of walking along with this guy, no one has barreled between them, or shoved past him, or knocked into him.   They’ve been giving plenty of space to walk, even though there’s hardly any space at all.

 

“So…you took my hand to walk down the street faster?” He asks and frowns, a little pang of odd rejection pulsing in his belly.  It’s weird and strange and bizarre enough as is.

 

Darren smiles, and it’s half devious and half joy.  “Well, I wanted to walk down the street faster _with you_.”

 

Chris blushes all the way down to his toes as he looks away.  Darren squeezes his hand and Chris is sure his palm is disgustingly sweaty.

 

He knows he should pull his hand away and take the next side street to try and get away from this guy.  But he’s too compelling, too wonderfully strange, and Chris finds that he actually, really doesn’t want Darren to let go.

 

Plus, it is much easier to walk down the street this way.

  
“So, unnamed stranger,” Darren says, voice bright and happy. “Can I hold your hand to a coffee shop or something?”

 

Chris smiles.


End file.
